Broken
by AcrossFandoms
Summary: The loneliest people are the kindest, the saddest people smile the brightest, and the most damaged people are the wisest. All because they don't wish to see others suffer like they do." Anonymous.. AU, starts a few months after Golden Ticket Contest.


She worked in the candy shop her parents worked in before their deaths. Since she never spoke, she was no help in the front end of the store. Instead, she worked in the back, unpacking Wonka candies and other sugary goodies. In her spare time, she designed advertisements for other shops and drew cartoons for the newspaper. But her favorite thing to do in her off hours was to explore the town and surrounding areas. She often met the children while they played in a meadow not far from the town. She was the only adult who knew of this special place. Each time she went, she had a picture she drew for them to create a story out of. She smiled, and sometimes laughed, as she played with them. They didn't even quite realize she never spoke a word. Every child, at one point or another, came, and she knew their names. However, they did not know her name, so they called her Alia. Her auburn hair and green-gold eyes marked her as someone of foreign blood. And to the youngsters, she was really quite a fun, strange person.

Her hometown was quite nondescript. In the long, winter months, there was only snow, grey stone, dark skeletons for trees, and the Wonka factory in the northern end of town. During the spring and summer, green covered the trees and barren ground, and the forest to the north of the town. The fields to the east and south were also green with corn plants, wheat, and other crops. When autumn came, orange, red, and gold covered the land. But the thing was, nothing really happened. There was no hustle and bustle like a large city. It was just the everyday life of ordinary people. The life in which everyone knew everyone. Sometimes, they had tourists who came for the countryside and a glimpse at the factory. No one understood how the factory continued running and make a profit, for none went in, and none came out.

She walked into the northern woods. The color leaves of autumn brightened the dark brown of the trees. In an old, burlap bag, she carried a ragged blanket, a threadbare coat, flint box, compass, and a penknife. She also had a few other odds and ends not worth mentioning. Her most precious item, a locket with a picture of her family, hung round her neck. She knew not what would happen to her. She wasn't even expecting to lose her full-time and side jobs on the same day. And because she never spoke, no other person wanted to hire her. So, she left before authorities took her away

She climbed a wooded hill. Seating herself on a rock, she surveyed the small town beneath her. It was beautiful. Sighing, she rose and turned her back to the town as the setting sun bathed it with golden light. While searching for a safe place to spend the night, she slipped down a fairly steep hill. Sliding until she landed roughly on the bottom of a gorge. As she looked above and around her, she noticed that the ground was smooth like a path. Curiosity piqued, she started walking until she came upon a large hidden door. She looked around her. The walls of the gorge rose high enough and slanted at just the right angle to appear, well, natural. Not knowing what to do, she knocked.

A boy opened the door. He tilted his head before shouting, "Alia!" He wrapped his arms around her.

She smiled, and hugged the boy back. Of all the children she met, Charlie Bucket held a special place in her heart. Her mother once knew Hellen Bucket long before Hellen married Nathan Bucket. As a girl, she looked up to Hellen as an older sister, but her parents' death and Hellen's marriage brought an unintended separation between the two women.

"It is a good thing Mr. Wonka or the Oompa-loompas didn't find you," the boy continued happily. "They would not have been as happy to see you as I am. Let me take you to my family." As he led her through many corridors and past strangely titled rooms, he chattered about a contest involving golden tickets and four unlucky children. Eventually he came to a room, pulled out a house-shaped key, and opened the door. She stepped into a large, vaulted room with a giant skylight window for most of the ceiling. A dark, shiny brown river gurgled through the middle. The old, leaning house sat nearby with a large garden not far off.

"Everyone, I brought Alia!" he fairly shouted as he burst into the house. Four elderly persons, two males and two females, looked up from the table, which was set for eight people. Hellen, who stood at the kitchen range, nearly jumped as she turned. As for Nathan, he dropped his carving.

Hellen stared at Alia, nearly saying, "Lia…"

She frowned and shook her head. She stepped further into the room and towards Hellen. Charlie, unaware of the silent conversation between his mother and Alia, continued, "See, I told you that Alia was not some imaginary friend. See, she's very much real."

"What will Mr. Wonka say about this?" asked one of the old men.

"Say about what?" asked a new voice. She turned, and they spotted each other at the same time.

He was tall and pale. His dark brown hair was cut in the most curious fashion. He wore grey gloves that fit his hand like, well, like a well-made glove. His clothes fit him well too, but the colors did not quite go together. Brown eyes twinkled as he surveyed her. "Well," he added. "I'll say that she needs to explain how she got here."

"She was at the back delivery door," Charlie jumped in. "Alia used draw pictures for us children and sometimes took us to explore the woods, and I suppose that's how she found the door."

"Was anyone who could steal my life's secret work to sell to those parasitic copycat candy making cads with her?"

"No."

"Then wonderful," he said with a bright smile. His very straight teeth shone white. He removed his hat and sat down at the table. As Hellen dished out roasted potatoes and chicken, he asked Charlie, "Say, what do you think of a lollipop yoyo?"

"With a non-sticky taffy as the string," Charlie smiled widely.

"Boys," Hellen reproved the two. "Every night, you come in with business ideas, and that's all fine and good _outside_ this door."

"Yes, ma'am." And with that, they fell to work eating, interspersed with comments on recipes, weather, and various stories about some Oompa-loompa prank.

After dinner, Charlie formerly introduced Alia to Grandma Josephine, Grandpa Joe, Grandma Georgiana, and Grandpa George as well as his parents. He turned to Mr. Wonka, "And this man with the funny haircut is Mr. Willy Wonka."  
"Hey, I do not," Willy protested. "I could disheir you, you know."

"That's a new word?"

As the two started off another conversation, Hellen took Alia's hand and led her outside.

"Mr. Wonka is not your usual type of person," she started with a slight chuckle.

Alia shrugged. Honestly, he did have a funny haircut and interesting behavior. Not to mention his fashion sense. But her main concern was where she was going to sleep that night. A big bed with several colorful quilts was evidently for the grandparents. A smaller bed behind a thin curtain was for Hellen and Nathan, and the tiny, rickety loft had to be for Charlie.

"I apologize for not keeping up with you since…"

Alia placed her hand on Hellen's arm. She knew that Hellen had no way of contacting her because she withdrew from the adult public eye.

"Why will you not speak to me? Is it because of your parents?"

Why did she not speak? Yes, she was still sad about losing her family, but there were other reasons. She didn't really have someone to talk to. And the words she would say were not the prettiest. Yes, she could talk to children, but her pictures seemed to be enough communication for them. Plus, they talked a lot among themselves. And adults, she did not think words could adequately express what was on her mind. Even with her pictures, adults still did not understand. However, she never said that. All she did was shrug slightly.

"Whenever you are ready, I am here for you," Hellen said gently. "Anyhow, I am sure Charlie wouldn't mind letting you have his bed tonight."

Alia looked at Hellen pointedly and shook her head. She found a nice patch of sweet-smelling grass and pulled out her blanket. Then she pointed at the glass ceiling.

Hellen laughed, "I suppose you are right. We are indoors."

Alia waved her old friend towards the tilted house. She sat down in the grass to gaze at the stars beyond the glass. The scent of grass was strong and sweet around her. She plucked a few blades and stared at them, wondering why its aroma was stronger than the grass she normally saw.

* * *

Willy bade goodnight to the Bucket family and set off towards the glass elevator. He spotted a figure sitting on the grass. As approached, he noticed that it was the new person. Her name slipped from his mind. Ally, Leah? No, it was Alia. Anyways, she was quite thin. But it was really hard to notice her physical state when the expressions on her face captured the eye. At the moment, she was obviously puzzled about the grass blades in her hand. Her gaze was questioning, and her eyebrows were drawn together in confusion.

"Did you know that the grass is edible?" he said. He didn't feel really awkward saying it. He supposed spending time with the Bucket family helped. "Try some, please do. It's really delectable and very good looking." He sat down next to her.

She chuckled softly and obliged him. Wonder replaced that look of confusion and surprise in her eyes as well as the dubious raised eyebrow. She looked at him questioningly.

"Genetics," he said. "Did you know that sugar and other sweeteners comes from a plant? Well, I had to find a way to make grass more palatable for humans and sweet without losing the texture."

She nodded and pointed to the river with the same questioning look in her eyes. "That," he said, "is part of my chocolate river. You don't talk much, do you?" She barely shrugged.

"So, where have the Buckets put you for tonight?"

She looked at him pointedly and held up seven fingers. Then she shook her head as she gestured to the little house. It took him a minute to figure out what she meant. Then he realized, "Oh, you mean that seven people barely fit in that house. Alright then, you can come with me. Yes, I know we are technically indoors, but that's still outside of something."

He stood up. When Alia had put her blanket in her bag, he offered her his arm. He didn't know where that action came from. He rarely ever let someone touch him or he touch anyone else. Although, he did make an exception for Grandma Georgiana, who really liked hugs. She smiled as she took his arm. Her hand rested so lightly that he barely felt it. He paused before his elevator and pressed the button. The doors opened with a ding.

"It's a glass elevator," he explained. "The quickest way around my factory. It goes up, down, sideways, slantways, and any direction it needs to go in to get places." He surveyed the walls until he found what he wanted and pressed the button. The elevator started with a lurch, pitching her towards him. He caught her with ease and righted her.

They continued in silence. Alia looked at the elevator. There were so many rooms that they filled three entire walls. He leaned against the wall and gazed around him as they whizzed through the factory. Every so often, he glanced at Alia. She watched the scenery pass by with fascination. He recognized the light in her eyes as the kind only artists had when they found something worth admiring.

Eventually, he came to his living area. Apart from the Bucket Meadow, as he called their section, the only place that was not factory or Oompa-loompa sections (for they had to live somewhere), there was really nowhere else he could put her. Unless she didn't mind sleeping on a lollipop bed with sheets of candy cotton. All he hoped was that he had an extra bed.

Luck was not with him, for of course he did not have another bed. When he led her to his room, for he thought it decent that a woman should have the bed, she took one swift glance and shook her head.

"Why not?" he asked.

She walked towards the mirror and pointed out his hat rack. Then she showed him his extra pair of shoes he kept by the door. Then there were pictures of his first store and the opening of his factory. But of course, he did not notice that his bedside table held his book of ideas.

"So?" was all he said. "It's nothing personal." She held up his book of ideas. "Er…please don't read that. I'm not near done with it."

She smiled and patted his shoulder as her way of saying "thanks, but no thanks." She went into his study where he had a sofa and sat down. She stared at him, daring him to try to change her mind.

"Have it your way," he said. "Bathroom is that way. Use whatever you want."

When she fell asleep, he slipped off to his inventing room. There, he gave some orders to the Oompa-loompas on night duty. After fiddling with some formulas for an hour, he retired to bed.

Before dawn, a noise awoke her. She looked up groggily to see Mr. Wonka sitting on his desk, looking at her. His cane stood next to him. _That's not creepy, at all_, she thought drily.

He smiled broadly, "Good morning starshine, the earth says hello!"

She nodded her greetings. Then he pointed to something on the coffee table. She saw that it was new clothing. She looked up and shook her head.

"Goodness, if you keep shaking your head," he remarked casually, "it might just shake off."

She sighed and scooped up the clothing. When she returned from the bathroom, he looked at her carefully then said, "Well, the Oompa-loompas got your size right, but we might need to try a different style."

She shrugged. How it all fit, she did not know. As for the style, she had always worn a jumper dress paired with a long-sleeved shirt and ragged stockings. She spotted a notebook on the desk. She pointed to it.

"This?" he asked, holding it up. "Oh, of course." He handed it to her along with a fountain pen.

"Come along," he said. "We mustn't dilly or dally because…" He opened the door and ran into something, knowing his hat off his head and him to the ground. "we need to get you back to the Buckets for breakfast." He finished as he stood up and reaffixed his hat.

She smiled behind the notebook and followed the strange man.

* * *

In the following weeks, she kept herself busy by exploring the factory, helping Hellen, and drawing. Before she started living in the factory, she found it easy to live her life. It was easy to live in the shadows. But now, it was so much harder. She forced herself to pretend to enjoy life. She managed to fool the Buckets, but she did not know if Mr. Wonka noticed. At least she had her own little suite near the Bucket Meadow room.

She enjoyed watching him work. There was somberness in his almost childishness. She heard of the Golden Tickets and wondered if he only appeared a bit too strange and a tad bit crazy to his visitors on purpose. She suspected that he responded to children according to how they treated him. After all, he often ended up not talking when around her, but he talked plenty with the Buckets.

Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore. Pretending life was alright. When spring came again, she packed the belongings she came with in her bag. Hiding the bag beneath her coat, she acted as if she was merely going through a walk through the woods. She was surprised it was so easy to leave. Although she had come to love the Bucket family and care for her strange friendship with the candy man, she was glad to be on her own.

Willy knocked onto Alia's suite door. After no answer, he opened the door. It was empty, and he first thought she was somewhere in the factory. Then he noticed her notebook lying on the desk. It was opened to the first page. That was something she never did. She always had it with her, never showing it to anyone. He liked the girl for her silence and keen observance and fascination with his work.

He looked at the page. A detailed picture of a family of five sitting round a table filled the majority of the page. Beneath it, he read, _We were happy. Just us._ On the next page, he saw three figures huddled in a heap while shadows danced on the walls. The description read, _Then they came. _The third picture struck his heartstrings. He knew it was her. She stood alone, wrapped in a black cloak as wind whipped around her. Dark shadows rose around her. He read, _They killed my family. Brutally. And I must live with the shadows._ That was when he realized the truth of her silence. He flipped through the next pages. Grotesque images that must have been her nightmares filled the pages. There were no words to describe them, literally. And then he stopped. For there were pictures of the Buckets. Then there was one of himself. It was so like him, excepting the hairstyle. On one side, she wrote, _He does have a funny haircut._ On the other, she said, _The loneliest people are the kindest, the saddest people smile the brightest, and the most damaged people are the wisest. _He turned the page. Instead of sketches, he found writing.

_Herein is my story._ She began._ My father is from Ireland, and my mother comes from Germany. My mother was from an influential family, but my father was only from an old family with a good name. But to my mother's parents, a good reputation was not enough. My parents married in secret. Two years after, they had me. Soon, a younger brother and a sister became part of the family. We were happy with just the five of us. We lived in hiding, moving often, until eleven years ago. I was fourteen at the time. They found us. They took us to an abandoned warehouse. To my brother and sister, they cut and let them bleed to death. Their cries and whimpers only set them to laughing. They tried to have their way with me. They came very close to it. Until my father flung himself at them, telling me with his eyes to try to get away. Distracted, they released me and began torturing him. Kicking, beating, cutting. I managed to crawl into a dark corner. When they had finally killed him, they turned to my mother. She was pale like a ghost. They told her that this was her punishment for marrying a peasant and left. I managed to take my mother away from that cursed place. When we came to a bridge, she pulled away from me. With a shriek of grief, she disappeared from my sight. For years, I could not speak without hearing my sister's whimpers and my brother's cries. I could not cry without remembering my mother's tears. I cannot hope without thinking of my father. I can only exist. I returned to my birth town. The town where my mother and father once had a candy shop before they sold it. It doesn't matter what happened next until I came to the candy factory._

_The one thing I shall say the factory is this: Mr. Wonka has had trouble in life. How much, I cannot tell. But what I saw in him was a lonely, sad, and even damaged man beneath the kindness, smiles, and witty remarks. He makes candy so that it might be a comfort. A way to alieve suffering. Just as it was to him._

_And now, I go. I cannot pretend to love life. I do not think I have the right to end my life, but I do have the right to choose how I might live it. The silence, I cannot choose, but I do choose the solitude. _

Willy mumbled, "Not if I can help it." He quickly found his elevator and zipped over to the Buckets house. He left the book with Hellen, saying without preamble, "Read the last page before the first." Then he set off to find the young woman. He flew his elevator down the back delivery road until he spotted a lone figure.

He landed not far from where she stood in surprise. Striding towards with a firmness in his step, he wrapped his arms around her. "Don't go," he said. When he looked into her face, he found a tear trickling down her cheek.

As he led her into the glass elevator, he asked, "Alia isn't really your name, is it?" He looked into her eyes and found his answer, her name was something that he would have to find out.


End file.
